When he screamed in my face and pushed me against his car that night, he told me I was worthless but I was the one to say sorry. Over and over again, I was sorry. When he left me standing in the parking lot by my house I could do nothing but hate myself for making him leave me. When I was a little girl it was a mistake of trusting a man that I barely knew, just because he was my own blood. His evil eyes made his way up my dress along with his hands, and ever since then I don’t think I could lose my virginity without crying into the man I love’s chest. When I tell someone how I’m feeling inside, I always let the word, sorry slip out when I’m finished. I feel like I am dumping my emotion onto their chest and suffocating them like it suffocates me. Then they end up getting upset with me, because I offend them when I apologize. At fifteen a boy kissed me like he loved me, and the next day he never called me back or answered my texts. I couldn’t help but think maybe I fucked it up somehow, maybe when I talked about heaven and dying it turned him off. Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it. He didn’t want to deal with me. The last text I sent him was, “sorry.” When my mother is angry she tends to raise her voice and say things “she doesn’t mean.” I can’t help but believe her when she calls me crazy, and I can’t help but think that maybe my dad drinks so much because he hates his life. I can’t help but think maybe it’s because of me, do I ask for too much? Is it because I’m always sad? Am I not good enough, what did I do? The love of my life is the most amazing man in the world yet when his voice gets quiet on the phone I can’t help but question if he’s okay because I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. I always ask over and over, if he loves me because I need the reassurance that I’m not some crazy bitch. When my friend texts me and I don’t respond for a few hours I am afraid she will think it’s because I don’t care but in reality it’s because I can’t think of anything to talk about when my mind is filled with this negativity about myself. I just always feel like I am doing wrong. I am wrong, I am damaged, by other people’s mistakes, I take credit for. That’s what I do wrong..

i.c. // I need to stop being sorry (via delicatepoetry)

Every time I close my eyes I can still feel your touch, hear your voice, and see your face and its killing me.

Reasons for my lack of sleep

“She would be pretty, if she lost about ten pounds.” What if, shockingly, she was perfectly fine with the size of her clothes? What if, you actually realized that her eyes are the prettiest thing you’ll ever look at? But you won’t give her the time of day because her thighs touch, and she can’t fix in a size extra small.

“This is why you shouldn’t make fun of fat people.” You’ll only ever hear this, when there’s a before and after picture involved. Proving that it’s only something to remorse if they decide to become smaller, but if you don’t, they’ll never shut up. They’ll never regret it.

“You look good, did you lose weight?” She didn’t lose weight, she just took the time to put on her make up, and do her hair. You know this, but I mean, fat people can only look attractive if they’ve lost weight. Right?

“You should be eating more salad instead of fries, and start exercising.” Only if they knew, that she does yoga daily, and is a vegetarian. But due to her genes, she will always have the extra curves on her hips. It doesn’t matter if she runs ten miles a day, trust me, she’s done it. It won’t go away, so deal with it.

Isn’t it funny, how just because your body takes up a little more space, it makes you feel less of a person? It’s been in the way girls don’t find him cute, only funny, because when he laughs his tummy chuckles too. It’s how a man will love a girl, inside, but can’t love her on the outside, because she’s got an extra twenty pounds on her. It’s in the way you only see tall and thin on the magazines, and how being a size one isn’t enough. It’s all about being a zero. It’s how girls and guys stay up puking their brains out, following diets that only allow you to eat 200 calories a day. It’s how she can’t feel beautiful standing next to the girl with skinny legs and a thigh gap because she doesn’t look like that, because she never will look like that. We’ve been brainwashed into thinking that thin is the only form of beautiful for men and women. That the only form of attraction is a girl with a concave stomach and a man with six pack abs. I’ve been brainwashed into thinking that I can only be beautiful with skinny wrists and a space between my legs, that I am not beautiful because I need to squeeze into my jeans. That girls, boys, all over the world feel like they must go to the extremes of starving. Starving, because they are starving to be your idea of “perfect.” Well you know what, FUCK your ideas of perfect. Instead of teaching people to change themselves with your ABC diets, and never eating more than a few calories a day, teach them what true beauty is. Teach them that you don’t have to be less of a person to actually feel entitled to be one.

i.c. // i don’t know what to call this,
maybe it can be a wake up call (via delicatepoetry)


"if feminists want equality does this mean we can punch women now?"
go ahead chicken shit punch me in the fucking face. i will shove your entire upper body into your own ass and make you fuck yourself from the inside out

I remember everything so vividly—
The way you made me laugh when
I only wanted to cry, the way you knew
How to hug me and make my problems
Disappear, the way my heart skipped at
The mention of your name, the way you
Could make my day with a simple “hello.”
I even remember the deafening silence
When I told you I could love you forever,
And the day my favorite hello became
A goodbye and a dial tone.

You were my universe, I wasn’t even your Pluto. (via spilled-coffees)

The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for want of an understanding ear.

Stephen King (via purplebuddhaproject)